AND with no curiosity
nor enjoyment for life
each knock upon my
chamber heart ignored!
THAT door once built
upon intoxicating power;
a wilted stem o’ flower
is how I see my soul!
A ceaseless disregard
for popular accord
I wish to spread
the seeds of prose
and watch the flowers grow!
and before you ever thought
of Spring did you ever see
the bluejay sing?